Where Will You Hide Your Tears
by epiphanies
Summary: Following the last Prefects meeting of fifth year. Hermione asks Draco a haunting question.


Where Will You Hide Your Tears

By Emma

Disclaimer: *rolls eyes* I wish.

Summary: Bitchy Hermione. Weakened Draco. One-shot-fic.  
  
HAPPY 22nd BIRTHDAY, HARRY POTTER!  
  


"Well, Prefects, that's about it. Have a good summer." said the Head Girl, and the Prefects sighed and began to disband, stretching their necks and backs - this meeting had been the longest ever.

"Thank bloody Merlin," muttered Draco Malfoy. The meeting had even started off on a bad note - the Head Girl was reprimanding all of the members of the Inquisitorial Squad - namely, he and Pansy. What were they to do about it? They'd been -asked- to join. They couldn't turn down the Headmaster.

-Although even if we'd had the choice, we'd have chosen to,- he thought nastily, - A chance to control the Trio? Who in their right mind would give up such a privilege?-

"So," Pansy sighed as they turned to leave, "We out of here?"

"Actually, I need to stay back, have a word with the Head Boy," Draco said smirking, "I want to ask him if the Head Boy always gets his own room. Might be enough ammunition for me to strive for the position."

Pansy caught his eye and winked at him, "Well, I'll see you later then. Personally, all of the degradation that happened during this meeting has wiped me out."

"I'll be right behind you." he said as she swept past the door.

His eyes fell upon Hermione Granger, who was also standing behind, talking to the Head Girl about something in whispered voices - perhaps she was planning her rise to power?

He turned his head to look at the Head Boy - only to see that he'd disappeared from sight.

Blast. 

He edged his way silently past the two whispering females and was halfway down the corridor when a voice made him stop.

"Can I ask you something, Malfoy?"

He turned his head only slightly, "What? You want to get some tips on hair servicing? Or possibly how it was having power over you and your little friends, even if it was only for a short time?"

"Actually," she said, he could see her shadow leaning recreationally on the doorway, "I was wondering how you keep your feelings so locked up inside."

His eyebrows raised, he finally turned around to face her.

"Excuse me, Mudblood, I didn't know you cared to dabble in my affairs. What makes you think I hide my feelings? Hell, what makes you think I -have- feelings?"

A very familiar smirk crossed her lips as she walked slowly toward him, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's that you wear your tin heart on your sleeve when you're nearly asleep."

"You've never seen me anywhere near asleep, Mudblood."

"That's not true. Right at the moment you were being reprimanded in there, you were on the brink of slumber. And you had a pained expression on your face. How, I've wondered for so long, can all Slytherins be so heartless? And today, I realized that it's not true. It's a facade. You're evil, sure. But you have feelings. Feelings, that you obviously are too afraid to show."

"Like you're all a quiver to be gossiping to me about your ushygushies."

"No. But I have let you see me cry before, Malfoy." she said smoothly, her eyes never leaving his as she came closer, "You've seen my rage, my tears, and felt my hand," she held up her hand so swiftly that Draco winced, "sting your delicate little cheek."

"Delicate?" Draco scoffed, "I'll have you know-"

"That you avoided me afterwards? You were afraid that I was going to do it again? You really haven't spoken to me as much since then, have you Malfoy? Is it because you're afraid?"

"Afraid? Afraid of - what - exactly?"

"Weakness."

"I'm not weak!"

"Maybe you are, maybe you're not. That's not the debate," she said softly, as she walked by and created a slight breeze in passing, "The debate is, Malfoy, whether you'll be able to hide your tears when your father tries to break his way out of Azkaban and fails...when your Mother is taken and violated by one of your father's fellow Death Eaters...when Voldemort comes after you. Where will you hide your tears, then, Malfoy? I wonder."

Draco couldn't speak. He couldn't move.

"Shut up, you filthy Mudblood, you'll never understand. I don't shed tears to be hidden!"

Her voice floated to him like a message from far away, "I wonder."

He felt a stinging in his eyes, and looked straight up at the ceiling, willing himself not to give in to the temptation just to flail himself to the floor and cry until he was dry - he choked back a sob and cleared his throat.

He was a Malfoy. Malfoys didn't cry. Malfoys didn't give in. Malfoys weren't weak. Malfoys didn't shed tears to be hidden.


End file.
